


Different for Girls

by clio_jlh



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Falling In Love, Female Characters, Gay Male Character, Humor, LGBTQ Character, Male-Female Friendship, Musicians, RPF, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-21
Updated: 2009-07-08
Packaged: 2017-10-03 21:11:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clio_jlh/pseuds/clio_jlh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kat's recent heartbreak has left her a changed woman—and now her old friend Elliott is seeing her in a different light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. But Not for Me

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you [](http://lillijulianne.livejournal.com/profile)[**lillijulianne**](http://lillijulianne.livejournal.com/). While this story is a sequel of sorts to her sequence of stories about Blake, Chris and Kat, which can be found at [](http://stepintomyocean.livejournal.com/profile)[**stepintomyocean**](http://stepintomyocean.livejournal.com/), there's probably enough information here to read this on its own. All you need know is that Kat had been engaged to another man at the time she was fooling around with Blake and Chris.

In the end, of course, she couldn't go through with it, and broke it off.  He was a good man, but she wasn't a particularly good girl, nor, she realized, did she really want to be, at least in that way.  She told him that during their "hiatus" she had fallen in love with another man, and while that man hadn't fallen in love with her, it indicated that she probably wasn't in love with the man she'd said she'd marry, and that was enough for him, really for everyone.

The strange thing was that after, her mother said, "I'll tell you right now, Katharine, I liked him, but I was worried."

Her girlfriends surrounded her like worker bees, each in her own way making sure Kat didn't get lost, and it wasn't so much what they did as that they were doing it, the "hive mind of love" Tina called it, love so thick she could feel it all around her, lean back on it when she needed to.  It reminded her, at first, of the fierce protectiveness of Blake's friends, and now she knew why they were like that, because he stumbles into trouble, that one.

* * *

One very early morning at Jess's place, sitting out on the tiny terrace, drinking coffee and watching the cars go by on Pico, Kat confessed a little more, that this man had sexually dominated her, and she probably would have done anything he wanted, which was a little scary when she thought about it.  Oh, he'd treated her very well—he'd adored her, loved her—but was in love with someone else and that was that.

Jess sat with this for a moment, mulling it over as she tended to do, and then said, "Did the other person, the person he's in love with, know?"

"Yes.  We're friends, actually."

"Did you have a three-way?"

"Yes."

"So you've had sex with a woman now."

"No."

Jess looked up.  She was the least judgmental person Kat had ever known, which is why she was getting more of the story, but she did have a tendency to rip off the bandage.  "So they're gay?"

"Well, obviously not," Kat said, palming her breast the way a baseball player adjusts his package. "I think one was newly bisexual, and one was, well, adventurous."

"How nice of you to let them work out their gay panic on your body," Jess said, acid in her voice.

"One stop, full service," Kat replied.

* * *

The toughest part was not going to any of the record release parties.  She wasn't ready, she knew she wasn't, and so she'd go out with a girlfriend to a movie.  She couldn't remember another year when she'd seen every Oscar movie.  But she went to Virgin and bought the CD's at full price, even though they'd sent her copies, because she wanted them to get that inch up the chart.  Then she put them in a box and stopped listening to pop radio.

Which was just as well because after the movie wrapped she was going to make a cabaret record.  Simon was furious but she didn't care; Norah Jones had made money and all those older people knew her name now, too, so why not?  Or like that British girl Katie whose last name no one could pronounce.  Or she could be the female Bublé.  It wouldn't be a money sink; she wasn't going to fill the thing with Jason Robert Brown songs, much as she'd like to.  But it was a better fit vocally, and it was better for her in many ways.  Chris's song, of course, fit right next to the Porter and the Gershwin, but then, Chris was that kind of songwriter.  One day she realized she was using the machine, instead of being crushed by it.  Maybe Blake had taught her something after all.

* * *

In the early spring she did go to a record release party, for Chris Daughtry.  After all, he was her season, sort of like going to her own class reunion instead of messing with the juniors—juniors who were safely out on tours by then.  Her appearance made a bit of a stir because no one had really seen her, but it was nice to be with them, to sit and giggle with Kellie and give Paris a hug and listen to Taylor yammering about whatever.  Elliott was there too, sans model girlfriend, but then things fall apart. 

"Kat, you look amazing," Chris said, when he got to her.  "Better than I've seen you in a while."

"You haven't seen me in a while," Kat replied.

"There you go," Chris said, smiling, and god his lashes were long, and what was with men named Chris with long lashes anyway?  "But the last time I saw you …"

"I was going through something," she said, quickly.

Chris looked at her, assessing, and she did her best to hold his eye and not squirm, because really, she had nothing to be ashamed of and oh, that's right, it was none of his business.  Still, he took her by surprise when he said, "Which one?"

She _should_ have just said, "Blake."  He would have assumed that Blake had flitted off from her to Chris Richardson, and while he had a grudging respect for Blake's having followed his trail in twisting all Idol rules to suit himself, he didn't have a lot of time for the way Blake took bits from everywhere; Chris liked his music to burn pure.  But she hadn't been expecting the question, or really, the confusion, as how could he not know it was Blake? 

What she _did_ say was, "It's complicated."

Chris looked at her, then pulled her into his arms and held her for a long time, one large hand rubbing the back of her head.  She relaxed against him, letting her head nestle against his shoulder, and was glad she hadn't been drinking, as this was not a place she needed to be crying.  But when she lifted her head she caught Elliott looking at her, and she felt unsettled and exposed.

He kissed her temple.  "You deserve so much more than that, Kat."

She smiled.  "Stop me if you think you've heard this one before."

* * *

Knowing how Elliott, Daughtry and Taylor all talked—really, the three of them were more gossipy than any girls she knew—she shouldn't have been surprised when she looked down at her blackberry three days later and saw Elliott calling her.

"To what do I owe this great honor?" she teased.

"I haven't seen you in a while?" Elliott replied.

"You saw me Monday night."

"Um, I'm in the studio and I'm bored?"

"Uh-huh," Kat said.  She had forgotten how easy and fun it was to get him ruffled.

"Fine, I'm single now and I can't even remember what eating with a woman who is not my mother is like."

Kat bit her lip.  "Elliott, are you asking me out on a date?"

"Well …"

"I'm just teasing you," she said, laughing.  "I'd love to see you for dinner."

"Why _can't_ it be a date?" Elliott asked.

"I …"

"We're both available."

"Yeah …"

"We're friends.  One bad date won't change that."

"No …"

"So, why not?"

Kat took a deep breath.  She felt a little panicky, but it had been almost six months.  If not now, when?  And who could be a safer band-aid than Elliott Yamin?  "Why not?" she said.  "Let's do it."

"Great!" Elliott said.

"Where should we go?"

"Well, I was going to ask _you_," he replied.  "One of those, you know, tiny sushi places in the valley?  You'd know about that."

"Oh," Kat said, surprised again.  "Not on the west side?"

Elliott was silent for a moment.  "This isn't for publicity, Kat."

"I think Simon wants me to do everything for publicity right now," Kat replied.  "I've been pretty scarce, and I do have a record coming out this spring."

"I think _Simon_ knows the value of eating in out-of-the-way places."

"True.  Elliott, I didn't mean any—"

"I know," he interrupted.  "I'm pleased that you'd think of me to get publicity."

"That's the business."

"Yeah.  So where are we going?"

"There's this place in Tarzana," Kat replied.  "I'll text you the address.  What day?"

"Kat, it's a date.  Saturday, and I'm picking you up."

"Right!  Okay, great, I'll see you Saturday!"

"I'm looking forward to it," Elliott said, in that sincere way he had.

Kat smiled.  "Me too," she said, and after she hung up she realized, she actually was.

* * *

Elliott parked his car and double checked his hair in the mirror.  A date with Kat McPhee?  What could be more improbable?

Not that he'd been pining for her or anything.  Girl singers, in his experience, were either divas, pleasers, punks or pros.  During the show Kat was a big-time pleaser, possibly on her way to becoming a diva, so that plus the boyfriend led Elliott to steer clear, at least romantically.  Still, she was a genuinely nice girl, so they kept in touch, the same way he'd kept in touch with nearly all of the Idols because Elliott was that kinda guy.  But the week before she'd been more spirited—defying Cowell on the direction of an album was not the act of a pleaser.  And there was something in her eyes, in that flash when she glanced at him, something dark and resolute, and the way she'd immediately closed it off when she saw him—that wasn't the act of a diva, who wanted everyone to take care of them, or even a punk, who liked to wallow in her own darkness.

No, sometime in the last year, for some reason, Katharine McPhee had become a pro.  Add that to the niceness which hadn't gone away, and the very attractive packaging, and you got a combination that Elliott had to see more of, if only to work out how and why she'd changed.  He headed up the walk and rang the buzzer of Kat's bungalow.

Kat opened the door.  "Hey!  Come on in, let me just turn off the stereo."

Elliott closed the door behind him, surveying the place.  He hadn't actually been here before; Kat had moved in sometime in the fall.  But it was like her, feminine without being too girly, just soft colors and fabrics and things on the wall that weren't old album covers.

Kat reappeared quickly.  "All set!"

The place she'd chosen was exactly what Elliott was hoping for, a tiny hole in the wall in some strip mall in Tarzana, and they sat down right at the sushi bar, Elliott against the wall, and watched as the chefs made roll after roll.  Over the miso soup, Elliott asked, "So, what's going on?  You did a movie?"

"Well, I only needed to be there for three weeks, in Toronto in January.  And I was recording right when I got back, so I just sat in my room and learned the songs.  But it was fun, and interesting, and hopefully won't go straight to video."

"Anything else?  Other than the music, I mean."

Kat hesitated.  "Well, you know how it is when you're in the studio."

"Getting over a broken heart, I guess that takes time."

Kat nearly dropped her spoon.  "Broken heart?" she asked.

"Yeah, I mean, your fiance?"

"Oh, right, yes!  Sorry, I wasn't thinking."

Elliott looked at her, sharply.  "Or, you weren't thinking of _that_ broken heart."

Kat looked down.  "No."

"I guess that explains things.  No, don't.  It's fine; you don't have to say."

"Thanks," Kat said, smiling a bit.  "And you?"

"Oh," Elliot replied, reaching for an edamame, "she was really kind and really beautiful, and not stupid at all.  But it took me a while to realize that she really didn't have much to say.  About anything.  Ever, really."

"Ooh," Kat said, wincing.

"Yeah.  So we got to the end, and shook hands, and that was that."

"You do seem different.  In a good way.   And it isn't just the whole look.  You're more, yourself, somehow."

"So are you," Elliott replied. 

Then the rolls came.  They talked about promotional tours, and whether Billy Bush is even human, and red carpets, and which magazine parties were really worth going to, and how strange it was that Idol had started again, and the entire oeuvre of Will Farrell (she thought _Anchorman_ was the best, he, _Old School_), and he vowed to sit her down and force her to watch all seven seasons of _Buffy_ albeit slightly abridged and she responded with Hitchcock at least through _North by Northwest_, and then suddenly the place was closing, which couldn't be since hadn't they just arrived?

He really meant to just drop her off at her place, but coffee sounded practical, so he came in and sat on her couch. 

He really meant to just drink her coffee, but she was so goddamned gorgeous when she laughed, so he made her laugh again and then he kissed her.

He really meant to just kiss her once or twice, see how it was, but she kissed like she hadn't been kissed in a while, and missed it, and he had, too, and then they were making out on her couch.

He did manage to leave before things went any further.  It was a little late, and a little early, and he had time, and she was worth it.  He walked out to his car and she waved from her door as he set out on the fifteen minute drive from her place in Santa Monica to his in West LA.  He flipped on KCRW and they were playing some kind of plaintive Canadian indie-rock that didn't suit his mood, so he flipped it off, and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in the silence, singing a little.  Then he put in the earpiece for his phone, and dialed the number.

"Hi," Kat said.  "I'm glad you called."


	2. I've Got a Crush on You

They were both in the studio finishing things up—Elliott's release date was about a week behind Kat's—and given that their schedules were at the mercy of highly in-demand producers their dates over the next month were sometimes lunch, sometimes drinks, sometimes pancakes at 3am.  Kat sometimes seemed like she'd been hibernating for a while and just woke up, but for all that she wasn't particularly fragile, just mending, thank you, and Elliott liked to think he had something to do with that.  He was letting her take the lead sexually, not only because it seemed like a good idea but also because he'd always been the sort of kid who saved his treats (well, those he could have) and ate them slowly so they'd last longer.  That, plus the often odd in-between-engagements times of their dates meant that things hadn't progressed all that far.  

Well, all that far in the bedroom.  They were seeing each other at least every other day and talking on the phone when they didn't, as though they were trying to solidify things as much as possible before they went their separate ways when the records were released and the promotional tours started.  About three weeks after their first date, Elliott was in the studio very late one night and on a break called Kat, who he figured would be home after a night out with her girlfriends.  He curled up in a chair in an unused studio, his feet up against the console.  

"What did you see?" he asked.  

"_Laura_.  It's a mystery film noir from 1942."

  "How does it end?"

  Kat sighed, coming up against Elliott's distaste for suspense.  "A woman is killed in her apartment, and the detective starts reading her diaries and falls in love with her."  

"With a dead woman."  

"Yes.  It's kind of romantic."  

"It's kind of psychotic, Kat."

  "But it turns out she's not dead—someone else was killed in her apartment while she was away, so she comes back and he's sitting in her apartment and he thinks he's dreaming."

  "Well, okay, now it's romantic."

  "See?  And then he thinks she's in on the murder of the other girl, and he doesn't trust her even though he loves her."

  "Does she love him?"

  "She does by the end, because he's just, well, normal.  She's had a lot of guys who brought her a lot of drama, but he's a solid, normal, stand-up guy."

  "That sounds good for me.  Is he handsome?"  

"It's a movie!  Of course he's handsome."  

"Hmmm."  

"Don't start with me.  You know your appeal."  

"Fine.  So solid, normal stand-up guys?  Because I can give you a hard time if you want it."  

Kat is silent for a moment.  "Nah.  I think I'm done with that.  Excitement yes, drama no."

  "I'll try to be exciting then."

  "Elliott?  Are things not going well tonight?"

  "Why do you ask?"

  "Well, you're fishing and that isn't like you."  
   
Elliott tapped a pencil against the arm of his chair.  "The harmony parts on this song just aren't working.  I was double tracking the vocal but we aren't getting the sound we wanted.  Now we'll have to bring in a female singer and that means a delay because I'm losing the producer for three days after tonight."

  "What if I just came in and did it?"  

The tapping stopped.  "You'd do that?  I mean, yeah, it would help but it's kinda late—"

  "Not that late.  I was singing all afternoon, but I'm still in good shape.  And at worst you'll have a guide track to work with and you can get someone else to sing it later if you want to."  

"Kat, that would be a real help.  You're sure you don't mind?"

  "Of course not.  It'll take me about a half an hour to get there—"

  "No.  I need to clear my head anyway.  I'll come get you."  

"Great.  I'll see you soon then."

  "Yeah, I'll see you soon."  Elliott closed his phone and hopped out of the chair.  This certainly was an advantage to dating a singer.  He'd meant to bring her in to hear the early mixes at some point next week but this, working together, was different.  He hadn't been in a studio with Kat since—well, since almost two years ago when they were both on Idol.  Certainly offering to do an as yet unheard backup part was the gesture of a pro.  He'd just have to have faith that she'd behave that way, too.  

* * *

"I can't thank you enough," Elliott was saying as Kat unlocked the door to her house.  "You really helped me out of a tight spot."

  "Oh, I was glad to do it," she replied.  "You're coming in, right?"

  "Well, it's late—"  

Kat pulled him up to her, in the doorway, and kissed him.  "You're coming in."  

"I'm coming in."   

Kat dropped her bag next to the couch and kicked off her flats.  "Want something to drink?"

  Elliott sat down on the couch.  "No, just you."  

"Well, you got me."  She sat in his lap, straddling him, her hands on his shoulders.  

He cupped her behind with his hands.  "I do, don't I?"  

"You do," she said, leaning in to kiss him.

  Elliott had moved his hands from her bottom to her front, running his thumb over her nipple.  She arched into his touch, wiggling on his lap, working her ass against him.  "Come on," she whispered to him. 

  "Tell me what you want," he said, moving away from her mouth to lick along her collarbone.

  She moved a hand to the back of his head.  "You like a girl who talks dirty?" she asked.  

"Isn't dirty," he replied, and she could feel him smiling against her skin.  "Just wanna know what you want."

  "Feel me up," she said.  "I want your thumb on my clit."  

"Love to."  He slipped warm fingers past the waistband of her knit trousers, into the wetness within.  His right hand stayed on her breast, his thumb working the same kind of circles around her nipple that his other thumb was against her clit, and both were swelling and hardening, as though in rhythm with each other.  He was sucking her earlobe, softly grazing his teeth over it, and she bit her lip, pushing her whole torso against him, feeling him so solid and muscular beneath her, squeezing her legs against his thighs. 

  She'd been thinking about this for so long that it wasn't going to take much.  She was cradling his head in one hand, fingers tangling in the longish curls, and his beard brushed softly against her neck, and she wondered just how furry he would be under all those clothes.  It was the thought of that, of pale olive skin covered in dark brown hair, that sent her over the edge.  "Elliott," she whispered, and then, "no, don't stop," feeling the first orgasm breaking like a wave against her shore but knowing the second one, the one she could just see coming, would break over her head.  Her other hand pulled down the front of his shirt and the feel of his hair, rough against her, convulsed her again, only this time she leaned back, away from him, and he moved his hand from her breast to her back to keep her from falling.

  She opened her eyes, looked up at the ceiling, then sat back up and kissed him.    

"Wow, Katharine," he said.  "Been a long time?  Or does singing really turn you on that much?"

  "Well … it's just kinda like that."

  "All the time?"

  She nodded.  "When I trust someone, yes.  All the time."  

He had pulled his hand out from between her legs.  "You're so wet," he said, and sucked her off his fingers, slowly, closing his eyes.  

Watching him, she had a flash of being in a car, of dipping her own fingers into her quim and then feeding them to Elliott, and wondered if it was a memory she couldn't place, or just a vision of a possible future.  "I'm wet all the time, too, actually.  Not, like, wet-wet, you know?  But, wet."

  Elliott looked at her, and his blue eyes seemed very large.  "After this I think I'll be able to tell the difference."  

Kat smiled.  "And what about you, Elliott?"  

"You don't …"  

"You really think I'm going to let you leave without seeing how you come?  Uh-uh.  No way."  She pushed back along his thighs just enough to reach his waist and unbuckled his belt.  "Wait, we're going to need—" she leaned forward, looking over the side of the couch, pulling over a bag and reaching inside—"this!" and pulled out a small towel, which she set next to them on the couch.  His two hands were settled back on her rear, massaging it a bit which was very pleasant, while she unbuttoned and unzipped and pushed blue striped cotton boxers out of the way.  Wanting to make this wetter for him, she slipped her hand between her legs, feeling her cunt still wet and wide open, and his eyes widened so much watching her that she had to chuckle.  "Might as well use it," she murmured.

  He was hard—she had felt him under her for a while—and his cock was pretty average in length, which she was expecting, but quite thick, which she wasn't—thick enough to make her think twice about having him in her ass, though she knew she'd want that eventually.  Her hand just about wrapped around the base, and the vein on the bottom stood out, almost putting a groove in her palm as she stroked him, flicking her thumb over the head.  She didn't look at it—after all, he hadn't seen her—but did it all by touch, and by reading the expression on his face.    

Elliott was having a little trouble keeping his eyes open, and his mouth was puckered into a little circle, sucking in a breath and letting it out with an "ooooh."  As she moved faster he started to thrust up into her hand, and she bounced on his thighs, as though she were on a very unusual rocking horse.  He bit his lip, something she loved because it made the little patch of whiskers just below his lower lip stand straight out from his chin.  On the next stroke she pushed her hand down further, rubbing along his skin at the base and tangling in the hair there, and wondered if there was any bit of his body hair she wasn't bound to fetishize and who _did_ that?  Pulling back up she rubbed her forefinger along the slit, swiping off the little bit of precum she felt there.  She stroked faster now, keeping up with his thrusting but working against his rhythm, varying the length of her strokes, until she felt him tensing.  She grabbed the towel with her other hand as she increased the pace.  Elliott was saying "oh, oh, oh" but still staring at her, still thrusting, and then he shouted and came, and she managed to get most of it on her hand and not on his clothing. 

  He started shaking a little so she let go, unsurprised that he'd be one of those you couldn't really touch after they came, and instead brought her hand up to her face.  How odd, to see the cum and not the cock, but feeling it and watching his face just seemed more intimate.  She licked her fingers, much as he had, and he said, "_Goddamn_, Kat."  When she giggled, he went on, "You really love sex, don't you?"

  "Is that a problem?"  

"God, NO!  No, that is the opposite of a problem."  

"You like your girls dirty?" she whispered into his ear before kissing his neck.  

"No, um …"

  "What?" she asked, sitting up.

  "I just don't like that word.  It says that sex is bad, and I don't believe in that.  How about 'earthy'?  I like earthy."

  "Hmm."  She cocked her head, considering.  "Like a barefoot peasant girl."

  "We're both peasants, aren't we?" Elliott replied.  

"Yeah.  Yeah, I suppose we are."  She kissed him again, and he pulled her in close.  "You can have a drink and stay, or coffee and go," she said as she wiped off her hand, then tucked him back into his clothes and refastened them.  

"I'll take the coffee.  When I stay I want it to be because we've planned it, not because it's late."

  Kat smiled at this.  "Coffee it is."


	3. Nice Work If You Can Get It

She'd lost track of time and hadn't realized they were running over when Elliott knocked on the door.  "Hey!" Kat said, walking over to give him a hug.

"Am I early?" he asked, looking around the room.

"Not at all," said a slim man sitting at the controls, who stood to shake Elliott's hand.  "We're running late.  I'm Tom."

"Very nice to meet you."

"And you know Chris," Kat said.

"Hey man," Elliott said, and they pulled each other into a manly half-hug.

"We're working on the song I wrote," Chris said.  "I'm sorry we kept her."

Elliott waved a hand.  "I know how that is.  It's just dinner, no reservations or anything."  He found a stool near the back. 

Tom nodded.  "Let's go through it two or three more times?"

Kat picked up her mug of tea and headed back into the booth.  "We're doing high harmonies," she said, giving Elliott a kiss as she walked by.  She should have thought this through, but then again, he was going to hear it all anyway, and have some of it explained to him.  But he was a sharp one, and she always felt that he had figured out much more than she knew.

She walked over to the mic, set down the cup and put on the headphones, her hair in pigtails that kept it out of her face.  The playback started, the lower harmonies already layered in over the main vocal, all the voices hers, the vocal arrangement not far from the one Blake had worked out that first time, in AC, eight months ago now.  She listened, looking mostly at Chris but glancing over at Elliott, who wore his "unreadable expression of neutral listening" which she has grown to both love and hate.  She sang:  _And you say hello / And we both pretend / There was an end / But there was no ending_ and _Like a ghost through a fog / Like a charmed hour / And a haunted song / And the angel of my dreams_ and heard herself sing _That girl was me_ and thought, _was_.  They did it two more times before deciding that that first take after Elliott arrived really was the best one, and then the four of them sat behind the console, listening to the vocal mix, and Chris suggested a viola instead of a cello for the countermelody and Tom agreed, and that was it, done for the day.

They invited Chris to come to dinner with them, as Elliott hadn't seen him in a while, and after checking in and hearing that Blake was in the studio for the forseeable future anyway, Chris agreed, and they drove two cars to the fish restaurant a few streets away.

Over salad and a shared ceviche they talked about Elliott's record, and Kat's, and Chris's, and Chris said he really should write a song for Elliott even though it won't make this record and Elliott jumped at that.  Chris was really making a name for himself and also was a good presence in the studio, calm and steady and keeping people on task.  Kat thought that he'd end up even more behind the scenes than he thought and wondered what he'd make of that.  When the entrees arrived, somehow clothing came up.

"Kat keeps threatening to take me shopping," Elliott said.  "Haven't I been made over enough?"

"Not to make you over!" Kat protested.  "Just clothes that make people look at _you_, and not how that shirt and those trousers don't exactly go."

"I heard _that_," Chris said.  "Some people don't really dress when they're not on the clock, you know?"

"But we're always on the clock," Kat pointed out.

"He looks all right," Elliott said, pointing at Chris, "and he's just wearing a t-shirt and cargo pants and a baseball hat."

Kat motioned to Chris, and he stood.  "See how the t-shirt and the trousers are not the same color, but in the same color family, so it's tone-on-tone?  And the shirt he's wearing over that is a little darker, so the t-shirt pops?  And the hat has a flatter crown so it won't come down too far over his eyes?"

Chris sat down.  "It's the little details, man."

Elliott made a face.  "Fine, I'll do it, if Chris can come with us."

Kat looked to Chris, her eyes wide.  Why hadn't she thought of that?  "Would you?" she asked.

"Would I?" Chris said.  "Might keep me from wanting to burn my boyfriend's entire closet for a while, at least.  Sure, it sounds like fun."

"Thank you!" Kat said.  She reached along the bench for Elliott's hand and squeezed it.  It was all going so well, and why wouldn't it.  After all, Chris was a good friend, the number of times she'd sat on his face or had his dick up her ass notwithstanding.

She ran her thumb over the back of Elliott's hand, thrilling a little at the hair on it in that weird way she had been lately, and realized that tonight was the night she'd ask him to stay, if only so she could see the rest of him.  That he'd be seeing the rest of her, too, would be worth it.  It would have to be.

* * *

They were back in Elliott's car, after bidding Chris goodnight, sitting in companionable silence (well, not silence, but KCRW and not talking) and mostly Elliott was thinking, "Well, it wasn't Chris."    Ever since their first date he had idly wondered who Kat's ex—not the official one, but the unofficial one—was, if only because it was in reaction to whatever shit he'd pulled that Kat had changed into the girl sitting next to him.  Which still surprised him sometimes, that she was sitting next to him.  He had a vague feeling that the guy was in the industry if only because Kat had taken such control of her music, but after that, it could be almost anyone.  Not that it really mattered; it was just a game:  not this guy, not that one, nor that one.  And now, not Chris Richardson, though it wouldn't be, with the whole Blake thing.  

"How clean is your place?" Kat said.  

Elliott tried not to smile too much.  "Beatrix came today actually, so it's as clean as it gets."  

"Is this enough planning ahead?"  

"Plenty," he replied, and gave up on hiding his grin.

  "You look like you won something."  

"Didn't I?" he asked, and laughed.  

"I dunno; my resistance was never very high."

  "To me or in general?"  

"Both?  I've been in kind of a slutty period."

  Elliott shook his head.  "Okay, one?  You're only dating me now, and only sleeping with me, so loose period, over.  Two, I don't care what you did before I kissed you.  And three, I don't like that word."

  "What, slut?  Why?  Oh, your sex-isn't-bad thing."

  "Yeah.  So, not a slut," Elliott said, wagging a finger.

  "But I can say fuck?"  

"Definitely."  

"All right.  Take me home and fuck me, then."  "

My pleasure," Elliott said, taking his exit off the 405.  

Elliott's place was very clean, with music in neat piles and CDs in a stack near the stereo.  The house was small, but what did he need with a big place when he was so often away from home and it was usually just him?  Kat made nice comments about the framed vintage tour posters and the stand full of hats in the corner.  

"Something to drink?" he asked.  

She was looking at his CDs, but now turned to him.  "Maybe water, later," she said, walking toward him.  "For now, just you."

  He felt fixed to the spot, like prey.  "S-something to eat?"  

She shook her head, laying her hands on his chest.  "Just you," she said, and kissed him.

  He held her close, hands spread across her narrow back, her thigh rubbing deliberately against his cock which had been half-hard in the car, never mind now.  Somehow they shuffled into his bedroom, and the undressing was a blur—a glorious blur of creamy skin gradually revealed and slender hands playing with the hair on his chest.  She pounced on him, and then they were in the bed, he leaned up against the headboard while she settled in his lap.    Kat was rolling a condom onto his cock and my god but she wasn't kidding about being wet all the time—he could feel her on his thigh, though he hoped that some of that was because of him.  She lifted herself up, his hands on her waist, and slid down onto him, sleek and wet and tight and warm and wonderful, and her skin glowed in the faint light of the bedroom.  She never closed her eyes, which surprised Elliott, but kept them on him, on his face, her hands grabbing hold of his forearms as she rode him.  His hands never left her waist but it was her thighs doing all the work, first slow and then fast, so fast that he could barely catch his breath and my God she just came from this didn't she?  He wasn't far behind her, arching up into her, into the solid weight of her, and then she collapsed on top of him, and he pulled her close.

  "Mmm," Kat said, her face buried in his neck.  "I love how you feel."  She sat up a little, looked at him.  "I've never been with someone so …"

  "Well endowed?" he teased.  

"Well, _of course_!  But I meant, so … I think I'll call it furry."  

Elliott bit his lip.  "Yeah, um, that."

  Kat ran her finger under his bottom lip.  "No, I love it.  No manscaping for you!"

"My back?"

Kat smirked.  "Okay, keep doing that.  But don't do anything to this," she said, and started rubbing her body against him like a cat, her smooth skin against his hair.

"Keep doing that, and I'll want to fuck you again," Elliott said, a little breathless.

"Who said I wouldn't want that?  But you're on top this time," she replied, and rolled them both over.

* * *

A week later, Elliott wondered how a girl like Kat could have gone without sex for those eight months between her breakup and their first time together.  Despite their crazy schedules they'd found time to have sex every day, and his body hummed with it.  Even his clothes felt different, as though he could feel every single nerve ending under every inch of skin all the time.  She sent him racy text messages one minute, then called talking about music the next minute, as though the sex was just part of everything else.  And because of that, he had a feeling that they probably wouldn't slow down all that much even once they got used to each other.

One night they were laying around on the couch at her place and she said:  "That model, she didn't like to fuck much, did she."

"What makes you say that?" Elliott asked.

"Oh, you just always seem a little surprised when I want to."

"She liked it fine, but it wasn't … I mean, she was attracted to me—"

"Well, you're incredibly hot."

"It's true; I am.  I just don't think she thought about it when we weren't doing it."

"Not like me."

"Not like you.  Speaking of which," he said, sliding down her body, "I do love it when you wear skirts."

Kat shrieked. 

Elliott's head popped up from under her skirt.  "You said you liked my beard."

"You tickled my thighs on _purpose_!"

"Heh, I'm sorry," he said, grinning.  "I'll try something else."

"You'd … better," Kat said, her thighs opening wider as she slid along the couch and into Elliott's waiting hands.


	4. You've Got What Gets Me

Jess was threatening to stalk Katharine, or at least set up a computer program to text her every five minutes, unless she came out for coffee.  "You are the worst!" Jess said when they finally met at a Coffee Bean &amp; Tea Leaf near Kat's place.

"I am not!" Kat protested.

"Kat, you smell of it," Jess whispered.

Kat giggled, and wondered why she didn't even blush.  "Not here!"

Back at Kat's, Jess put her feet on the coffee table, unwrapped her muffin, and said, "I demand details."

"What do you want me to say?"

"I was going to ask you how he was, but he must be good."

"Yeah," Kat said, smiling.  "Remember when Tina said he looked like Mr. Tumnus?"

"Yes, but I've always thought Mr. Tumnus was hot."

"Well, Elliott's more like a satyr."

Jess whistled.  "So no more thoughts of your gay threesomes?" she asked.

"Not really, no.  Not during, anyway—it isn't possible to think of anyone else when he's there."

"Do you do anything other than fuck?" Jess asked, taking another bite of muffin.

"Yes!  We talk about movies and music and had a long discussion about Britney and K-Fed and their children last night, actually."

"What?  _Why_?"

"He felt she was being irresponsible.  He feels very strongly about that sort of thing."

"So you were really talking about how you two feel about having children."

Kat gave her a look.

"Don't, you know you were."

"We haven't even been dating for two months yet!"

"Who brought it up?"

"_Elliott_."

"Maybe he doesn't want to waste time," Jess said with a shrug.  "Maybe he's feeling you out."

"Wow."  Kat didn't even know what to think.  He might be that serious already?  Was she?

"A few weeks ago, you were worried about settling, you know, for something less.  Do you feel that way now?"

She thought about the night before, when he'd got her laughing and then got her begging for it, the way the hair on his chest felt against her nipples, the way he shouted when he came as if it was always a surprise, the way he looked at her when she came.  "No," she replied.  "Not at all."

* * *

Chris, Kat and Elliott went to Kitson's after hours because it was easier to get a private room and to get the personal shoppers to leave you alone once they'd combed the racks for you.  Kat and Chris sat together on a love seat and coached Elliott through putting together outfits from the assorted t-shirts, jeans, trousers and sweaters that lay in piles on a nearby table.  After Elliott wandered off to the changing room, Chris leaned over and whispered, "You need to see him."

Kat made a face.  "I know, I just, I don't know if I'm ready.  "

"He's only going to get scarier the longer you don't see him.  I love him, but he's just a guy."

Elliott came back in then, and Kat said, "That is the most adorable hat I have ever seen, but never wear that t-shirt again."

"How did yellow even get into this room?" Chris asked, then pointed at Elliott.  "No yellow."

Elliott nodded.  "No yellow.  Got it."  He walked back into the fitting room.

"C'mon, Chris," Kat said.  "How could all those things have happened if he was just some guy?"

"You know the answer to that," Chris said. 

"It was different with you," Kat replied.  "It always was."

They were quiet for a minute, and then Chris said, "Elliott adores you."

"Yeah," she said, smiling.

"And you let him.  You even like it."

"He doesn't adore me all the time," she said.

"You know what I mean," Chris said.

"Yeah.  I know what you mean."

Elliott walked up to them wearing dark jeans.  "Well?" he asked.

"I feel you have more than enough sweater vests already," Kat said.  "I like them, but no more."

Chris cocked his head.  "And only with t-shirts, or they'll kill your shoulders."

"Jeans are good though," Kat added.

Elliott waved vaguely behind his back as he walked into the dressing room.

"He's yanked me into the way he eats, too," she said, not looking at him.

"Oh?" Chris asked.

"Small, healthy and often."

"How is that working for you?"

"Strangely well, actually."

"Or maybe it's all the other things," Chris said.

"Other things?" she asked, turning to him.

He shrugged.  "You've got a lot of control right now.  Your music, your love life …"

"I'm not in control of him," she said.

"But he's not in control of you, either."

Elliott came back in, and Chris whistled.  "Look at that _ass_!  Where you been hiding that, Yamin?"

"Nowhere?" Elliott said.

"Seriously, Kat," Chris went on, "if we get him into good clothes I might develop a crush on your boyfriend.  Can you handle that?"

Kat started giggling.  "I think so."

"Why are you laughing?" Elliott said.  "Is it so unbelievable that Chris would have a crush on me?  I am hot!" he said, spreading out his arms.

"Of course you are!" she replied.  "Everyone should have a crush on you!"

"That's more like it," Elliott said, nodding, then went back into the dressing room.

"I don't think he would have said that two years ago," Kat said.

"Maybe that's you," Chris said.

"No.  I think that's him; I just encourage it."

"So I'm going to ask, because you know I have to—"

"It's really good," she said.  "Good, and frequent.  And mutual.  I didn't, I mean, I wasn't sure I could feel like that without all the games but he's so …"

"Dirty?" Chris asked.  "Because I never would have called it, but now, looking at him …"

"No, he doesn't like that word.  Earthy.  Without, you know, being crunchy."

"Who isn't crunchy?" Elliott asked as he came back in.

"You," Kat replied.  "Nice shirt.  Matches your eyes.  I envy that."

"What?" Chris asked.

"When I wear brown no one says, 'oh, Kat, that matches your eyes.'  Brown is brown."

"No one who ever saw your eyes," Elliott said, turning from the mirror to face her, "would ever say 'brown is brown.'  Seriously."

"Aww," Chris said.  "He liiiiiikes you!"

Elliott crossed his arms.  "This shopping trip was just an excuse so you two could sit here and talk about me, wasn't it?"

"No," Chris said.  "It was just an excuse to get you into some hot clothes."

"Mission accomplished," Kat said.

* * *

Chris ran off after shopping to meet Blake at a club but Kat and Elliott begged off to head back to his place.  Once they got all the bags inside Kat was writhing against him as he stood in the doorway of his bedroom.

"God, you were so hot in those clothes," she said.  "I was ready to fuck in the car."

"You were ready to fuck at Kitson's," Elliott said.  "Good thing Chris was there."

"He's not here now," she said, pushing him back into the bedroom.

"You're on fire," Elliott said as his back hit the mattress.  "All this for me in a tight t-shirt?"

She grinned down at him, her hair hanging like a curtain on either side of their faces.  "Never underestimate the power of clothing," she said, unbuttoning his shirt.

"Never underestimate the absence of clothing," he replied, sliding his hands up her thighs and under her dress to the waist of her panties.  "God you're wet.  Lay down, I want to drink some of that."

She did as she was told, pulling her dress off over her head, then leaned back on her hands, her legs spread wide.  He slipped off his shirt and moved between her legs.  "Pants off too," she said.

He stood up, quickly pushed them off, then got back into his position, cock hard and waving a bit in the air.  He was kissing, touching her all over, and she sat with her head dropped back, one hand rubbing a nipple, the other buried in his hair.  He was licking along the top of her thigh when he saw something etched on her skin.  "Huh, I never noticed this before," he said.

"What?" she asked.

"Your other tattoo.  Is that—is that a piece of cake?"

Elliott could feel her tensing.  "Yeah.  It's—I promise, I will tell you, just not right now, okay?"

Elliott looked up and her eyes were wide, a little frightened, and he remembered how she looked that night at that party, laying her head on Daughtry's shoulder, that look that had made him ask her out, that made him want to just hold her now.  "I told you, I don't care what happened before I kissed you, and I meant it."

She nodded, but she didn't look convinced, so he moved up, pushing her down on the bed with the strength of his kisses. 

"I'm—I think I'm really falling for you, Kat," he said, sitting up a little to look at her.  "I was gonna wait, I know it's soon but maybe you need to know now."

Kat stared at him, and he started kicking himself, mentally, waiting for her.  She reached her hand up, caressing his cheek.  "Me too," she said. 

"Whoever broke your heart, they made you this girl in my bed.  So I'd just be thanking him, for being the idiot that gave you up and brought you to me.  Just remember that."

She smiled at him, but her eyes were shining and hell, hadn't anyone taken care of this girl before?  Or had she just not let them?  He kissed her again, just soft and loving, and they stayed like that, until her legs started moving.  "Fuck me, please," she said, reaching one long arm over her head to open the nightstand drawer and retrieve a condom.  "Fuck me all night."

He sat up and she rolled the condom onto him.  Then he sunk into her, easy as anything, her quim so wet that it made little sucking sounds as he pulled out of her before sliding in again.  Those long legs were wrapped around him, her hands on his shoulders.  "Kat, god, Kat," he muttered.

"Come on, fuck me harder."  She licked her lips, panting.  "Take me, shake the fucking bed, Elliott, make my tits shake, fuck it out of me, come ON!" 

Elliott changed the angle, pushing her hips up so he could get in deeper, and swiveled his hips a little as he fucked her, and she cooed.

"Yes, like that, please honey _please_."

She was so hot writhing beneath him and _begging_.  He moved a little, getting leverage, and then just did it, just started snapping his hips as though she were a big doll, the best doll ever, and she shrieked and moaned.  "Like that?" he asked.

"Yes, oh god Elliott, that's it, make me yours honey, yours I'm yours I'm yours I'm yours—" and then she shouted and that was her coming, wasn't it, and she wasn't like any other girl, ever.

He kept fucking, the changes in rhythm having gotten him off a bit, but now he was in it, pumping away into her, and she was cooing and moving again, little doll, "just made for it, aren't you?" he said, a little startled to hear the words coming out of his mouth instead of staying in his head, "made for fucking you love it you're mine and you love it," and he was panting.  He looked into her eyes and they were dark, dark as anything, and that mouth just barely open and the pink insides and he thought of her wet mouth her wet pussy and he came, roaring, ridiculously, like a lion, and collapsed into her.

"_Elliott_" she whispered.  "My man Elliott."

"I hope you don't want it like that all the time," he mumbled into her breast.

"Heh, no," she said.  "I just get into a mood sometimes." 

She was stroking his hair, so calming, so nice after, because sometimes it was hard, all that adrenaline that his body had trouble with.  "Wait, is it still—"

"It's there," she said, reaching down to brush her hands along the tubing to the small pump clipped to the black band he wore around his thigh.  "Right where it belongs."

He rolled over a little, propping his head up with his hand.  "It fit under all those new pants."

She smiled, running a hand along his cheek and then down to his chest.  "I don't mind other people knowing you have a hot ass," she said, "but I'm fine being the only one who knows what great legs you have."

"I, um," he said, brushing a thumb across her creamy cheek.  "I think—"

"Say it, Elliott," she said, smiling, and there, her eyes were smiling again, too.  "Just say it."

"I love you, Katharine."

"I love you, Elliott."  They kissed, and then she added, "You know, I could eat."

Elliott flipped over onto his back and laughed.  "Oh my god," he said.  "I love you!" he shouted, waving his arms.

"You'd better," she replied.


	5. They Can't Take That Away From Me

A week or so after that, she made the call.

Hearing his voice again (his intimate friendly voice, not the one in interviews) was a shock, but at least she'd known it would be.  And he sounded mostly the same, thank goodness, all spark and antic energy and conspiratorial inclusion, like you're the only person he wants to pull into that magical space he exists in, even if you know you're not.  Only, he didn't seem to exactly know what to say, which surprised Kat, as she'd never known him to truly be at a loss, even when he wasn't getting what he wanted.  She suggested lunch, it was scheduled for two days hence, she hung up and picked up her keys and went to meet Tina and Jess for dinner, because she wasn't stupid enough to call him and then be alone.

And then on Tuesday they were in one of those little places where the diners are too obsessed with being cool to actually bother anyone else and the tables are arranged for minimal eavesdropping.  They did away with all the easy small talk bits, the what-have-you-been-doings even though they knew, the weirdness of watching another "class" of Idol kids put through their paces, while they were waiting for their lunches.  

"I'm proud of you, Kat.  I knew you knew what you should be singing better than they did."

"I didn't," she said.  "I mean, before you, I didn't know."  She reached into her bag, "Here's the rough mix.  I really want to know what you think."

"Now that it's done?"

"Blake—"

"No, I'm sorry, that was lame.  Thanks," he said, flipping it over in his hands before putting it into his shoulderbag.  "Really, thanks."

The awkward pause was covered—thank goodness—by the arrival of their food.  She had ordered this cobb with fat free dressing and turkey bacon that Ryan had been yammering about the last time she saw him and it was actually really good.  Blake was eating something fried and she wished that Chris were there to join her in her annoyance, though even Elliott would have looked askance at the pile of ketchup-covered golden-brown crunchiness.

Then finally Blake said, "So.  Elliott."

"Yep.  Elliott."

"Chris says you seem good together."

"I'm glad."

"He treat you well?"

"Of course.  He's a very good man."

Blake nodded, twirled the salt shaker.  "Understand you?"

"He's a watcher."

"Chris is like that."

"Yeah.  But he's not—I mean, he's very stubborn about random things."

"Random?"

"Like, a joke about Britney becomes a long conversation about parenting, or how he hates to sit in chairs and always wants booths or stools at restaurants, or his whole thing with not valeting the car."

"He won't valet the car?  Not ever?"

"And he pouts when I do.  It's insane, and I'm sure I don't even know the half of it."

"Makes things interesting."

Kat half-smiled.  "He said once that he would try to be interesting for me.  I'm not sure he realizes."

Blake drummed his fingers on the table, then sighed a bit.  "And how is he—"

"Chris already asked me that.  Didn't he tell you the answer?"

He looked up.  "I wanted to hear it from you."

She put her fork down.  "How much do you want to know?"

"God, Kat, I mean, I know it's none of my business—"

"Of course it is.  We're friends, right?  You're a friend."

"I'd better be," he said, and smiled a little.

"My girlfriends all asked," she said.  "Chris asked.  What do you want to ask?"

"It's just—look, you were a different girl at the end than you were at the beginning and not all of that was bad."

"No," Kat said.  "Not nearly all of it."

"And I don't want you to go back."

"Even if I wanted to, which I don't, I couldn't.  Now I ask for what I want."

"Which is?"

"What, you want me to name acts for you?"

"Do you—do you do the things we did?" he asked, leaning forward.

"Not really, no.  Safe words and all of that?  No."

"It isn't wrong."

"Of course it isn't," Kat said, toying with a breadstick.  "It just isn't what I want with Elliott.  It isn't what I think of when I'm with him."

"You've outgrown it or something?"

"No, god—maybe, maybe it was just what we did."  She reached over and touched his arm.  "It wasn't the same with Chris, either.  Maybe that was just us."

Blake nodded, and that was another land mine disabled.  "So what are you asking for?  Elliott, I mean, I get it—I'd fuck him—but what turns _you_ on?"

She thought of being coy but really, what was the sense in that?  "Hair."

"Hair?"

"Yes."

"On his head?"

"I like wrapping the curls around my fingers.  I'm glad he grew it long."

"But not just his head."

"I like his beard.  It suits him and it's very soft—"

"On your inner thighs," Blake interrupted, grinning.

"Okay, yes," Kat replied, giggling.  "And when he bites his lip, it's very sexy."  She stopped, smiling and looking down a bit, not sure she wanted to say more.

But of course Blake knew that. She felt his fingers under her chin, pulling her back up to look him in the eye.  "C'mon, Kat.  Spill."

"So, he's very, um, furry."  She took a sip of water.  "I like how the hair on his chest and his legs rubs me when we're fucking."

"Soft?  You make it sound like you're fucking a muppet."

"No—rough against my breasts, and his ass under my hands."

"Like mine."

"Kinda.  More, though."

"More?  So his back—"

"Yeah he has that done," she said quickly.  "But it's very manly."  She sighed giddily; she hadn't really given this much detail to anyone, but this was _Blake_ and she knew he would demand no less.  "So the other night …"

"This sounds good…"

"He was tired so I'd just taken care of him and then he was sitting there and I straddled his thigh and I just sort of, rode him."  She bit her lip.

Blake leaned in.  "You humped his leg like a dog, you mean?"

"Sure," she replied.

"Because he's so hairy?"

She closed her eyes, remembering the strong muscle, how as she got wetter more of the inside of her pussy rubbed against him, the hair rough against the tender inner skin, and how hard she came.  "Yeah."

Blake sat back.  "Well, Katharine McPhee.  That is really kinky."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah.  I'm not going to worry about _you_," he said, popping a fried thing into his mouth.

"Good," she said, picking up her fork, and thought, _I'm not going to worry about you either_.  "How is your recording going?"

"I won't lie, it's a lot of pressure, and without the backlog of stuff I hadn't done.  And this time there's a much bigger tour planned," Blake said, "so I'm, I don't know.  Not nervous really but—"

"It's a lot of responsibility," Kat said.

"Yeah," Blake said, toying with a piece of bread.

Kat cocked her head, thinking of what Chris had said.  Blake was definitely still magical—it was who he was, always would be—but sitting in that chair he also seemed smaller somehow, just another boy, and she realized how unfair it was of her, in the end, to think of him as being so powerful.  She put her hand on his.  "You'll be great.  I know you will."

Blake smiled.  "Thanks.  It'll be hard to be gone so long, though.  I mean, Chris isn't Linda McCartney; I can't make him just come along.  So that will suck."

"Chris will miss you, too."

"Yeah," he said, fidgeting again, and she thought of that Kate Bush song, _I saw you as the dream, not the reality_, and how different to listen to him talk about Chris now, than it was then.

So she said, "I didn't think you two could be closer but it looks like you are," and smiled.

Blake looked up, sharply, and she knew he didn't miss that, and he said, "Yeah, it just keeps, well, _you_ know."

She shook her head.  "Not any more.  Tell me."

* * *

Elliott was in the studio that afternoon and evening, and Kat had an appearance to make for a dinner thing, so they were just texting each other most of the day, and might see each other late that night if they weren't too tired.  Elliott wasn't too tired, himself; they were going to play everything for the label the next day and his body buzzed with nerves and excitement and selfishly, fucking Kat would get rid of some of that.  She nearly always exhausted him, but in a good way, at least so far.  Sure, she could be a little high maintenance, but he knew that he could be rigid, too, and she was good at rolling with him, so it wasn't that hard to roll with her, at least most of the time, though he did wish she would _rinse out her tea mug_ because she took milk and sometimes it was gross.

Luckily she wasn't too tired, either, and so they ended up at his place around eleven, eating hummos and carrots and pita, and then suddenly she said, "So, about that tattoo."

Elliott swallowed.  "I said I didn't care, and I meant it."

"I do."

He picked up his glass from the table and sat back on the couch.  "Okay."

Kat sank into the other corner, pulling one leg up on the cushion between them.  She picked at the label of her diet Coke bottle.  "Well, I said I'd gone through a slu—a loose period."

"Yeah."

"It's sort of a souvenir of that."  After a bit of silence, she looked up at him.

"Okay," he replied, nodding.

"Um …"

"Kat, you don't have to—"

"No, I'm going to do this.  It isn't, I mean, I think you'll care about this part.  You said it made me this girl, so I want you to know."

Elliott rubbed Kat's ankle and nodded for her to continue.

"You know those movies where people have all this sex and then they fall in love later?  I just don't think that happens.  You're the good girl or the bad girl from the beginning, right?  The madonna or the whore.  And I was sick of doing as I'm told and just thought, maybe being bad would feel better.  So I did.  And I did, um, a lot of things.  Things we don't do.  With a—with a few people, the same few people, but a lot of things."

"Do you want to do those things with me?  Is that why you're telling me this?  Because—"

"No—"

"I thought, I mean, it seems like when you want to do something you ask, which, I like that.  I like that you ask for what you want."

"Thanks," she said.  "I'm glad.  But I don't want to do those things anymore."

"Are you sorry you did them?"

Kat thought, and then said, "No.  I'm not sorry, I just, I did those things and now I'm done."

Elliott smiled.  "I know I said I didn't care, but you keep saying—I mean, I guess I don't want to ask for things you know you don't want to do, right?"

"You want me to—"

"No, you know, no," he said, waving his hand.  "Forget I said that.  You don't have to say; that's personal."

"Elliott, if you want to know I want to tell you."  She took a sip of the diet Coke.  "A lot of it was just being with more than one person.  I don't want to do that again."

"Neither do I," Elliott said, trying to keep the surprise out of his voice, trying not to get distracted adding this new bit of information to his speculation on That Ex.

"Because Dr. Drew is right; it just leads to a lot of jealousy.  I know I would be jealous."

"Yeah?" Elliott asked, grinning.

"Yeah," Kat replied firmly.

"Good."  He bit his lip, and watched her lick her lips.  "Um, anything else?  You really don't—"

"We played domination games."

"That doesn't surprise me actually."

"No?"

"You're very good at asking for what you want."

Kat laughed.  "No, no, I was the submissive."

Elliott couldn't hide his surprise this time.  "You were not."

"I had a safe word and everything."

"I just—I just can't—really?"

"I guess that wasn't something you were going to ask me for," she said, giggling again.

"I like everyone being equal." 

"You do."

"So it shows?"

"You're always so happy when we're really going at each other, or when I surprise you."

"Who wouldn't be?"

Kat smiled sadly.  "Some people don't like surprises that much."

Elliott reached down to rub Kat's leg.  They were silent for a bit, and then he said, "Did they tie you up?  Really?"

Kat laughed again, and Elliott thought she was probably the best girl ever, even if she didn't rinse out her tea mugs.

So he said, "Can I say something?"

Kat looked apprehensive, but said, "Of course."

"I mean, I wasn't going to tie you up or bring someone else in anyway, so it isn't that."

"Okay."

"But, well, about that evil thing?  The madonna thing?"

"Madonna or whore," Kat said.

"Right.  I just, I guess I don't really, I mean, I see what you're saying?  But that isn't how I always thought about it."

"About what?"

"About evil.  I think … I really do believe that all evil is, is not being true to yourself, allowing yourself to stray from your path because you were tempted by other things, things that seemed easier or safer or shinier or something.  And good isn't out there, it's inside, and becoming that person that God wants you to be, that God made you to be."

"Huh," Kat said.  "I think … yeah, I agree.  I think that's, well, that's where I'm getting to."

He nodded.  "And then evil isn't, well, being bad isn't that tempting, because you aren't trying to be someone else's version of good."

"Like Simon Cowell?"

"You did stare him down," Elliott said, smiling.  "And even if it doesn't sell as well, it's your path, Kat.  You should be proud of yourself."

"That's what everyone says," she replied, but her voice wavered.

Elliott spread his arms and Kat tucked under one, cuddling against him.  "Thank you for telling me," he said, kissing her forehead.  "That means a lot."

"Thanks for listening," she said. 

* * *

The next morning, as Kat was driving back to her house, she checked her messages:

_Hey, it's me, and I know I just saw you but I've listened to your CD about six times and Kat, it's, wow.  Even better than I knew it would be.  I want to listen to it more and talk to you about it so call me.  I mean, it's all good, right?  We're friends again and calling each other and stuff now.  'Cause … I missed you.  Yeah.  Call me!_

She'd told herself since she went into the studio that it didn't matter, that she was doing it for herself and not to prove anything to anyone.  But hearing that she thought, well, maybe it didn't matter from Simon, but from Blake?

"I missed you too, sweetie," she said.


	6. How Long Has This Been Going On

Kat and Elliott were booked on back-to-back Idol results shows, four and three.  Elliott remarked that he must have some kind of final three magic, since this would be the third year in a row that he'd sung on the penultimate results show.  Kat said aloud that she wasn't sure that first year counted, but inside she wondered if they both had some kind of bizarre three-based thing in their genes.

They were each headed out on promotional tours shortly after the Idol finale, and Kat's record was getting a pre-release at Starbucks so she'd already done some publicity around California.  Once Simon had heard the final record, he'd smelled money, which pacified him, and the machine started up again, only with a slightly different target.  VH1, not MTV.  Public radio, not the Kiss stations, though Ryan wanted her, partly because he was a doll, and partly to get gossip about her and Elliott.  The boy, of course, was wandering off to the soul circuit, BET and WBLS in NY and that sort of thing.  They'd laid out their schedules and found a few places where they overlapped, and Kat knew herself well enough to know that she'd be living for those days over the next couple of months.

It was odd to think of the very different place she was now, than she had been the previous spring.  She'd never actually fallen in love with someone at the same time they were falling in love with her.  Either they didn't, or she didn't, or they did and pursued her until she thought she felt the same, only once she really did with someone else she realized she hadn't with that first person. 

So on Wednesday, as they were driving to Burbank for her appearance, Kat said, "Do you think we're going too fast?"

Elliott turned to her.  "I don't think this is the time or the place to talk about that."

"Which means yes," she replied.  Seeing traffic ahead, she turned to try to detour around it.

"Why—why do you do this?" Elliott asked.

"Do what?"

"Poke things."

"Okay, what does that even mean?"

"Things are good, you poke at them.  You can't mean that compliment, so I'll poke until you say something critical.  Poke-poke-poke."

"I don't—"

"Don't argue.  You did it every week during Idol."

Kat drummed her fingers on the steering wheel.  "So you don't think we're going too fast?"

"God!"  Elliott shifted in his seat, so his back was against the door, and took her right hand in his.  "I think that we have only a few months of being in the same place at the same time , so no, we aren't going too fast.  And if we're going to do this, we're going to be apart kind of a lot, so we might as well get used to it.  And if we can't get through a month of promotion, how are we going to get through a year of touring?  And you need to find some other way to ask me for reassurance when you're nervous about something, because picking a fight isn't it."

"Okay."

"So are you nervous about tonight?  Which song did you end up with?"

Nigel had wanted Kat to sing Chris's song, with the double Idol tie-in and all, but Kat wanted to sing the new single, not only because it was a better promotion for the CD, but also because she didn't want to sing that song in public quite yet, much less on the number one television show in America.  And since Simon agreed, she got her way.  "The single."

"Good.  You'll be fine.  You've already done three appearances with that song."

"True," she said, squeezing his hand, and felt him squeeze back.

Dress went well, and she came back to her dressing room to find Chris and Blake sitting with Elliott.  "Hey," she said, "I didn't know you would be here."

"Of course," Blake said, jumping up to give her a peck on the cheek, as though he were just another fag and she were just another hag. "And we'll be here next week for Elliott, too."

"Thanks," Elliott said.

It was fun, having them there, out in the audience for her, and it wasn't even so bad since Simon was firmly on her side, so she wore her pretty dress and got compliments from Ryan and people applauded and the song was really starting to feel like it was hers, and she felt ready to make the usual rounds and sell the hell out of this record, which without much radio to get behind her she'd really need to do.  They skipped the party after in favor of dinner at a diner, where they slid into the booth with Kat opposite Chris and Elliott opposite Blake, and Chris and Kat conspired to leave Blake and Elliott to their own conversation, under the theory that it was good for them, little control freaks that they tended to be.  Which mostly worked, at least that night.

A week later it was her turn to sit in the dressing room and then the audience with Chris and Blake, and get teased by Ryan for being there, and applaud for Elliott who was fantastic as usual and sexy as hell in clothes they'd bought when shopping with Chris.  But dinner after was a little different, maybe because Elliott was hyper from performing rather than calm on her behalf, or maybe because Blake had decided he needed more of her attention or more attention generally.  This wasn't unlike him, to be honest, but usually there was more of an antecedent, or at least some warning.  Still, she was able to parry him fairly well, and she would bet there was some kicking under the table from Chris, but while Elliott didn't do or say much, she was very sure it hadn't gone unnoticed.

That Monday Kat and Elliott had a rare day off and spent it at Kat's, mostly in bed, so when they arrived at the viewing party for the final Idol performances on Tuesday Kat was feeling blissed out and loved and very sexy.  As Kat wanted to fuck Elliott as often as possible before they had to separate, they'd done it again that afternoon before showering (well, to be honest, also while showering) and running out to Hollywood.

They walked into the room full of alums—Daughtry was there, taking credit for the whole thing as he'd been the one urging Elliott to call her, and she knew he probably wouldn't have bothered with the party if not for the two of them; Taylor was all performative joviality, though later he asked Kat how she'd got Simon to be enthusiastic about her unconventional record; Kellie was her usual adorable self.  And there, with Ace and someone from season 6—Brian?  Brendan?—were Blake and Chris. 

The AI6'ers were in a huddle on one end of the room and Kat took her time making her way over to them, preferring to visit with the folks from her season and earlier.  She realized, as soon as she saw Blake, that he'd know that she'd had an orgasm within the last hour or so, and if he was in the mood he'd been in the week before, that could lead to some trouble, and Kat kicked herself for not having thought of that.  That said, it was probably best that she didn't arrange her life around Blake's possible reactions; she adored him, but he was a grown-up.

Once the show started they ended up sitting a ways away from Chris and Blake, which was fine because she knew they'd end up together at the end of the night, and she liked Blake better in smaller groups than at large parties anyway.  All these performers in one room did tend to give her a headache.  Instead, the folks from various seasons seemed to sort themselves out, variously, and Elliott and Kat ended up back near the Daughtrys and Taylor and his new girl and Ace and Kellie.  They cheered both singers though like nearly every year it was clear whom the Idol gods had smiled upon, and when the future runner-up sang the coronation song Kat caught Blake's eye; if nothing else, they would always share _that_.

After it was over they awaited the arrival of that year's talent.  Elliott had wandered off to get more drinks and Kat was talking to Gina and Haley when she felt a familiar pair of hands cupping her breasts from behind.  "You look good enough to eat," he whispered into her ear, his breath hot and wet.

"Blake!" Haley shouted.  "Time and place!"

"Come on, Hale," Blake said, moving to stand between Gina and Kat.  "Kat and I are good friends, aren't we?"

"Of course," Kat said, putting her arm around him and kissing him on the temple.  "Of course we are."

Elliott came then and handed her a glass, then gave her a kiss on the cheek and a rub at the back of her neck, and she wondered how much of Blake's little display he'd seen.  There was a commotion at the door and they all turned to see the new class of Idol'ers coming in.  The little conversation groups that had formed dispersed, and Blake wandered off to do his last-year's-number-two duties, but Kat hung back, Elliott with her.

"Do you want to leave soon?" he asked.

"Chris Richardson said they wanted to go someplace after," Kat replied, "with a smaller group."

"All right," Elliott said, taking a drink.

"_Is_ that all right?"

He smiled.  "Definitely."

They went to a little divey sort of bar in West Hollywood, the kind of place where people leave you alone because they're too cool to acknowledge your existence, where there was still a back room area they filled up, Kat and Elliott and the Daughtrys and Chris and Blake, and Ace and Kellie, and Brandon, and Phil and Chris Sligh and Melinda who Kat hadn't seen in a dog's age, and Gina and Haley, too, and they were pretty rowdy, all things considered, and kind of took over the jukebox, but they also bought a round for everyone in the bar and gave big tips because nearly all of them had worked behind the bar or waiting tables at least once. 

After a couple of hours people started to peel off, and somehow Kat and Elliott ended up back at Chris and Blake's place with Gina and Haley and a few other people, smoking a couple joints.  It occurred to Kat that she'd never seen Elliott high, but he took papers and the bag from Chris and rolled one of the joints like a pro.  At her questioning glance he shrugged and said, "Misspent youth.  Didn't want to drink much."

It was all comfortable and woozy, and she was sitting in Elliott's lap on the couch, vaguely stroking his chest, her back against the arm, and then Blake sat on the other end, entangling his feet in hers.  Elliott looked over, saw Blake's hand in Gina's hair as she sat on the floor with her back against the cushion, said nothing, but Kat could feel him shifting, putting his arm more firmly around her, and fought a wave of annoyance at his need to stake his claim before Blake because, really.  Chris came out from the kitchen, put a bowl of baked cheese and sour cream ruffles in Kat's lap.  Kat picked up a chip, offered it to Elliott, but his head was turned away from her, staring at Blake.

"Munchie?" she asked.  "When did you eat last?"

"I'm all right," he said, but he pulled the chip into his mouth with his tongue. 

A little after that Gina pulled her up to dance around to Kylie Minogue, with Haley too, and the boys were sitting on the couch watching, which seemed unlike Blake, and Haley yanked on him until he got up and pulled Chris along with him—_boy your lovin' is all I think about_.  Kat turned, seeing Elliott sitting on the couch, and maybe it was the pot, and maybe it was how he was looking at her, or knowing that he felt awkward dancing in front of other people sometimes, but she started dancing just for him:  _there's a dark secret in me_.  After a bit he raised his hands, taking hers, and then he was on his feet, and they were dancing close and sexy, which she'd never done with him before, even alone.  _la la la, la-la la-la-la_

The song ended, and Kat looked up to see the others watching them.  Elliott cleared his throat and let her go, and she could see he was blushing so she kissed him, and Gina and Haley said, "Awwww!" and Elliott went even redder.  Chris was laughing, but Blake was just staring, his head cocked.  Then he walked right up to her and she was scared for a minute, given what had gone on earlier, but he just hugged her, so tight, his head tucked into her neck, and he whispered, "I'm glad."  And when he let her go, she smiled and kissed him on the forehead.

"Call for a cab?" Elliott asked.

Kat nodded, and hugged Blake again, but she could feel Elliott's hand still at the small of her back.

By the time they got back to Elliott's place they were pretty sober but also kind of wired, so they went out on his porch and sat on the floor, their backs against the outside wall, drinking water and looking up at the wind stirring the trees.  And then finally, finally he said, "So it was Blake."

"Yeah."

"And Chris too."

"Yeah."

"The tattoo.  I should have known."  He ran a hand through his hair. 

She sat, not moving, just waiting him out.

"Oh god," he said, realizing.  "The _song_."  He sprang to his feet and went into the living room.

Kat followed and saw the promo copy of her cd in his hands.  He put it in the tray, cued the song, opened the lyric sheet, and just stood there in front of the stereo, listening.  She leaned against the doorframe, her hands gripping the wall behind her, and tried not to hold her breath.  "Angel" was one of the last songs she started, because Chris had been out on the road until March.  She remembered two days before they went into the studio when Chris asked, shyly, if she even still wanted to sing the song, given all that had happened, and she said he'd have to pry it out of her cold, dead hands.  Or that day he first played the song for her, and how disconcerting it was that Blake took the entire thing in stride, not even a blink of self-consciousness as he worked out a vocal arrangement.  Or the day that Elliott came into the studio and all she could think was that she wasn't the girl in the song anymore, because of her, but also because of him.  But she had never thought about how the words must sound to him.  She wondered which of these girls he heard in her voice—the one still in love with Blake, or the one licking her wounds, or the girl she was now, the girl who'd recorded the song.   

When it was over, Elliott didn't move, didn't turn, just asked, "When did he write this?"

"In the late summer.  Before it was over."

"So Chris knew, I mean, how you felt."

"He knew, I knew, we all knew everything.  Well, except Blake.  I don't think he wanted to know for a while."

"How long?  How long did you …" and he stopped, as though he couldn't say it.

"I don't know.  Four months straight, I guess, and then off and on once they were on tour, and then when they got back, it was over."

Elliott turned to her then.  "Did you break it off, or did he, to be with Chris?"

She took a breath.  "I did, because he was in love with Chris.  Is."

"But if he had been in love with you—"

"He's not."

"But if he was—"

"But he's _not_."  She turned to look at him.  "He wasn't—it wasn't good for me, so I ended it."

"So the drama, the excitement—

"You're plenty exciting, Elliott.  Don't worry about that."

"Oh?" he said, putting the cd down. and walking toward her.  "Because I don't see anyone writing wistful songs about how I'm not in love with them."  He walked back out onto the porch.

"_Elliott._"

"I'm sorry.  It's just—"  He stood, paced a little, then sat on the porch railing, facing her.  "You and I, we're always going to be working singers.  We're good enough and what we want to sing people like and we'll probably work our whole lives, or as long as we want to, and we're lucky.  And Chris—give that kid time and he'll be Timbaland.  Seriously.  But Blake?  Blake's a _star_ and he's just getting started and—"

"And he's more than a little self-involved, and he's got the attention span of a toddler, and he's pretty free with his affections, and he can be careless sometimes, without meaning to be," she finished, sitting down at Elliott's feet.  "And I adore him—I'm mad about him, and I always will be—but I can't put my heart there.  Like tonight?  It's not that you never left my side, because of course you did, but that you were there with _me_."  She tapped against the floor for a moment, thinking.  "You know, I think the reason that people like the sad love songs more than the happy ones is that more people can relate to them.  I know I couldn't really put myself in them, but now … "

Elliott's face softened.  "You're not just … do you mean that?  Because two weeks ago you thought we were going too fast."

"I was scared, and I was—I've never done this before, Elliott.  I've never had someone say the things you say to me and been able to believe that they mean them."

He pushed off the railing and squatted down in front of her, taking her hands in his.  "That's not just me.  That's you."

"Yeah," she said.  "So let Blake be Frank, and we can be … "

"Dean and Sammy?"

"I think Chris is Dean."

"Kinky."

"Kinkier than me being Sammy?"

"No, you were Dean, I was Sammy."

"Of course.  Steve and Eydie?"

"Kinda second string, Kat."

She shrugged.  "We'll make 'em first string."

Elliott crawled over to sit behind Kat, pulling her back into his arms, his legs outstretched on either side of her.

"You said you didn't care what I did before I kissed you," she whispered.

He kissed her ear.  "I don't.  It just sucks to be the only guy at the table who doesn't know what's going on, you know?"

"Yeah," she said, running her right hand along his arm.

"I'm gonna miss you."

"Me too."

"Maybe we _should_ have a variety show.  We can be the new Sonny and Cher."

"Captain and Tennille."

"I do like hats.  Donny and Marie?"

"Now _that_ is kinky."

He chuckled.  "Not Nick and Jessica."

"No!  I can't even _pretend_ to be that blonde."

"But you're gorgeous enough."

She reached her left hand up to cup his face, and turned her head.  "So are you, sweetie.  So are you."


	7. Aren't You Kind of Glad We Did?

Elliott could see Kat and Chris standing off stage right, and the camera in front of them.  They'd gone up for Record of the Year before the break—Kat, and Chris who had a producing credit on the song, and her producer Tom—and were waiting for Song of the Year, and the two of them were visibly vibrating.

As was the man next to him.  Elliott and Blake had moved to sit together at the aisle, leaving the inner seats to the seat fillers.  They were holding their breath, and then Elliott felt Blake hold his hand, too, and they turned and smiled at each other with the hoping.  And then the name was called, by Springsteen of all people, and they jumped up and shouted and hugged each other, and threw hands up to Chris and Kat on stage again, crying, the four of them.

Blake and Elliott beat a quick path for backstage after that—album of the year was going to the new Zeppelin, everyone knew that, so there was nothing to stay for really—and some PA was leading them through a maze of green rooms to one where Chris and Kat would be able to find them after they'd gone through the press room.

"Amazing," Blake said, opening a bottle of seltzer.

"Yeah," Elliott said.

"I mean, it's just, I'm so fucking happy for him.  It's nice just being the husband, you know?"

Elliott nodded.  He and Blake weren't really close, aside from their odd foursome.  He was better friends with Chris—they were from the same place and had similar approaches to music and to the industry—but the things he had in common with Blake, like his stubborn streak, usually pushed them apart.  But when Blake stopped and just let it show to other people how much he flat-out loved Chris—in those moments, Elliott felt they were more alike than different, really.

"Speaking of which," Blake said, "you gonna make an honest woman out of our Kat?"

"She ask you to ask?" Elliott asked.

"What makes you say that?"

"Oh, it just sounds awfully conventional coming from you.  You're more of a feelings guy."

Blake shrugged.  "That's me.  But she's the marrying type."

"Soon," Elliott said.  "Really soon."

"Seriously?" Blake asked, his eyes widening.

"Yeah.  Wow, I actually—I haven't said that to anyone else yet.  But after this mini-tour I've got coming up in March, I'm going to talk to her father."

"Dude!" Blake said, clapping him on the arm.  "That's going to make her so happy.  I'm a big fan of Kat being happy."

"I know."

"And you make her some seriously fucking happy."

"I hope so.  I'm glad it shows."

"Trust me, it does," Blake said, and they clinked Perrier bottles.

And then Chris and Kat burst into the room, and it was all shouting, and the rest was pretty much a blur.  But when Elliott thought back to that night, or saw pictures from it, what he remembered was Kat's shriek, and Chris's shout, and then also, Blake holding his hand tight.

* * *

The baby was adorable, round-faced and bright-eyed and long-limbed, would probably be taller than one if not both of his fathers, too little to be out of new-baby blue eyes and soft brown head-fuzz.  "He mostly likes blowing spit bubbles and holding fingers," Chris said, "and eating.  I thought Blake ate a lot, but he isn't still growing."  Chris was grinning like his cheeks should ache from it, and his eyes were bright like Elliott had never seen them, but also rimmed red.

"But not sleeping, I take it," Elliott said, letting the baby grab onto his pinkie.

Chris shrugged.  "I'll sleep when he leaves for college," he said, and shuffled the baby in his arms.  "Here, you want to take him?"

Elliott looked up.  He'd never been at a party where there was a baby that didn't end up in Chris's arms by the end of the day, but Elliott tended to skirt around them himself.  They were so small, and he was, well, kinda clumsy.  But Chris smiled, so what the hell, he was going to have one sooner or later anyway.  Might as well start now.  "Sure," he said, setting his bottle down on the nearby table.  Chris nudged up Elliott's arm, to keep the baby's head up, and there Elliott was, standing in a living room, holding a baby. 

The baby looked over at Chris, who smiled at him, and then up at Elliott.  He kicked his feet, then reached out with one hand, a little blindly, and grabbed for Elliott's beard, and all Elliott could think was, what tiny, tiny fingernails.   Elliott looked up and saw Chris watching Blake, across the way, talking to Kat.

"Oh, yeah," Elliott said.  "We got engaged a week ago."

Chris looked back, sharply.  "'Oh yeah'?  You say 'oh yeah' for like, 'oh yeah, we got new towels' or 'oh yeah, I got a gig in Pasadena.'  You don't say 'oh, by the way, almost forgot, gonna get married.'  You say, 'Hell yeah, gonna get _married_.  Geez, Elliott."

"You're a _girl_, Chris."

"More man than you'll ever … never mind, I actually can't say that.  Katharine is more woman than me."

"Yeah, about that.  I know."

"What?  Know about what?"

Elliott shrugged, best as he could with a baby in his hands, and said, "I know that you know very well how much woman Katharine is."

"Oh."  Chris rubbed the back of his neck.  "So this is awkward."

"Why?"

"Well, I mean, how much did she tell you?"

"Enough," Elliott said, and made a face at the baby.

"And you're all right with that?"

"I'm not sure why I should care.  We all have exes, and histories."

"How long have you known?" Chris asked, looking over at Kat and Blake, who were embracing, Blake bouncing a little.

"A year," Elliott said.

"A year?"

"Yeah."  The baby by now had grown weary of the new beard and was staring up at his father, or at least, in that general direction.

"Well, I don't know what to say."

"How about congratulations?"

"Of course. Yeah, man, congrats," Chris said, patting Elliott on the back.

Blake and Kat approached and Blake said, "This is fantastic, man, Kat just told me.  I mean, really, this is excellent!"

"Thanks!" Elliott said.  "It is.  She is, she really is excellent."

"Yeah," Blake said, looking at Kat.  "She is."

"And so is this baby," Elliott said. "Squirmy."

"Can I hold him?" Kat asked.

Blake took the baby from Elliott, but Chris said, "Show me the ring first."

"You're a _girl_, Rich," Blake said.

"Good job, Yamin," Chris said, admiring the ring.

"Thanks, but Kat picked it out.  I didn't ask her with it.  She's very particular."

"Why isn't anyone admiring his watch?" Kat asked.

"You got a watch?" Blake asked.

Elliott nodded, pushing up his sleeve.  "Tradition.  Nice, isn't it?"

"Good job, McPhee," Chris said.

"Oh, Elliott picked it out," she said, taking the baby from Blake.  "He's very—"

"—particular, yeah, we get it," Blake said.

"He's also excellent," Kat added.  "And so are you, little man!" she said, cooing at the baby.

"Are you going to show them?" Elliott asked.

"Oh!  Right!"  Kat turned, seeing the bathroom door not far from them.  She walked toward it and the door opened, Seacrest walking out.

"Kat!" he said.  "I hear congratulations are in order."

"You bet.  Here, have a baby," she said, and handed the little bundle to him before walking into the bathroom.

"Um," he said, shifting awkwardly, watching Elliott and Blake follow her.  Chris stopped to move Ryan's arms so he could carry the baby better, then went into the bathroom too, shutting the door behind him.

Inside, Kat leaned back against the sink and pulled her skirt up, showing her upper thigh. 

"You changed it," Blake said, reaching out to touch her tattoo before he thought better of it and pulled his hand back. 

"So the cake, that's you two, and the candle, that's Elliott.  But the whole thing together, that's me, like, birthday?"  She bit her lip.  "What do you think?"

Chris grinned.  "I think it's excellent."

"What do you think, Elliott?" Blake asked.

"I think it's her body, is what I think," he replied.  "But I like it."

"Blake?" Kat asked.

Blake did reach out then, pressing down on the tattoo with two fingers, then letting go. "I love it."

"Hey!" Gina's voice came through the door, and then a thump of a knock.  "You'd better not be doing drugs in there!"  Pause.  "Or each other!"

Laughing, they opened the door, Blake walking out first.  "Gina-beena, please."  He took the baby back from her, unsurprised that Seacrest had ditched the kid so quickly.  "We're all old married people now." 

"Or soon will be," Elliott added. 

"We wouldn't do anything like that," Chris said.

"Well," Gina said, and her shoulders relaxed.  "That's all right then."

"Yeah.  It really is," Kat said, and smiled.


End file.
